


The greatest joke never told

by drainscab



Category: Watchmen (Comic)
Genre: Experimental, Minimal proofreading, No prizes for guessing why, Other, Probably bad, Rating will go up, Reader-Insert, Tags to be added, Warnings Will Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8471533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drainscab/pseuds/drainscab
Summary: Two men walk into a jungle. Only one comes out.





	

It's been six days since your plane came down, and you've been waiting here six days too long. You knew from the minute you climbed out of the wreckage that nobody was coming for you. You realize you've probably been declared dead by now. Both of you. Blake's still cracking jokes (bad ones, but no worse than usual), and you marvel at how nothing ever phases him.

You know better than to ask him why he's carrying a machete, but you're sure as hell grateful that he is.

\---

Hacking through brush takes longer than you thought it would. You're standing behind Blake as he slashes the tropical growth, with what you were able to salvage of the supplies and equipment packed into your backpack, not sure if the rash creeping up your arms is from some exotic plant or just the Island's unbearable, sticky heat. It's strange, though -- there doesn't seem to be any kind of animal life around here. No bugs in your face, no parrots shrieking, no snakes, no nothing. You think there is, for a minute. Something crawling on your skin, a prickling sensation. When you look, there's nothing there.

"Must be the heat," you mutter, wiping the sweat off your brow with hand that's just as wet. And damn, is it hot.

Maybe the heat killed everything off.

Or maybe something else did.

\---

"What the hell _is_ it?"

The creature's mismatched appendages flail aimlessly, striking the earth beneath it. _Thud, thud, thud._ Even as far away as it is, the vibrations are almost strong enough to knock you over, and you have to fight to stay on your feet, gripping the nearest tree for support. Its single, gigantic eye blinks, squeezing out a slimy liquid that run downs into the fleshy opening below and bubbles with a _bloop, bloop, bloop._

You suddenly find yourself on the jungle floor, retching, but you're dehydrated and haven't eaten in days, so only bile comes up.

"It's a joke, kid. It's a fuckin' joke," but Blake's not laughing. The guy's terrified. Bravest man you've ever known, and he looks like he's about to shit his pants.

"Not funny," you wheeze.

"I guess someone thought it was." Blake stares at the creature, and it stares back, looming vertical eye trained on both of you.

It's stopped moving.

"Sh--"

\---

You thought it was going to kill you, but today is not your lucky day.


End file.
